It’s early on a weekend morning. Nobody is asking me to be at work, drive them to a soccer game, or make them a meal. Shhhhh. Hear that? Me neither. There was a time (was that last week?) when I would have complained about waking early while my children were still asleep, because of the precious wasted sleep. When you are a parent, sleep is a commodity. But so is silence. And if you sleep when they do, it’s wasted silence.
In the silence, I think of what may have happened in Libya overnight. I’m pretty sure Husband was … busy. Not surprisingly, there’s still no Skype calls in or out. I could turn on the news. But it’s all just too close to Husband for comfort. I like the news boycott idea, so it continues.
Instead, there is glorious silence. I will count my blessings. Early weekend mornings, how I love thee. Let me count the ways … (remember, I’m not a photographer and all I have is a camera phone -)
One: A pretty little princess sleeping in my bed on her own satin pink pillowcase.
Snoring, with drool coming out of her mouth.
Two: Another child sleeping on my floor who didn’t even wake when I stepped on him.
Three: A beautifully clean and uncluttered great room. For at least a few more moments.
Four: Morning sky.
Five: Pristine, uncrumpled morning paper. But not the “world” section.
Or anything newsy. Nothing remotely newsworthy.
Six: Coffee. Yes, fine, I know it’s decaf. Stupid Lent.
I’m suffering. But I’m suffering with creamer.
So I have all this stuff and it’s quiet. The paper’s done. Now what?
* * *
Seven: Precious one-on-one snuggle time with the one that wakes up first.
(Ignore the horrific toes. I do. Hey, I play soccer.)
NOW, ENJOY YOUR WEEKEND MORNINGS, AMERICA!
And count your blessings instead of your Libyas and Egypts and Bahrains.